


Wade's Very Own Sugar Plum Fairy

by MsCaptainWinchester (rons_pigwidgeon)



Series: 25 Days of Spideypool Christmas 2020 [18]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dad Wade Wilson, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Identity Reveal, M/M, Screen Reader Friendly, Sugar Plum Fairy - Freeform, Witch Curses, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28228392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rons_pigwidgeon/pseuds/MsCaptainWinchester
Summary: Wade finds a music box, plans to give it to Ellie for Christmas, but while he's cleaning it up, he accidentally releases a "real" sugar plum fairy out. Who’s pissed. And apparently been missing for five years.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: 25 Days of Spideypool Christmas 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025320
Comments: 32
Kudos: 97





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided instead of writing individual stories for the rest of 25 Days of Spideypool Christmas 2020, I'm going to post this story serially until I'm out of parts. Because it's longer than I was expecting and because I'm getting a little burned out. Christmas day has it's own very special porn extravaganza, but this story may not end up having any.
> 
> In this universe, Peter’s still Spider-Man, Wade’s still Deadpool, and he still had a kid with Carmelita, but the whole North Korean kidnapping thing didn’t happen. Wade found out about having a daughter and settled down a little so he could have equal custody and now has a weirdly (for Wade) healthy relationship with both Ellie and Carmelita. He got a job with SHIELD through Steve and went semi-legit. Mostly works black ops. Has his life together a lot more than in canon, mostly because he wants to be a good dad.

Wade found the music box on a table of random things on a street corner in Hudson Heights and bought it on a whim. If it didn’t work, he could fix it before he gave it to Ellie, maybe even make it play her favorite song. He dropped it on the counter when he got home and put the groceries away, humming to himself. The box was still sitting on the counter when he came back to it. 

“Where else would it be?” Wade muttered to himself, bringing it to the breakfast bar and taking a seat on one of the stools. The box was less of a box and more of an octagon, an elaborately carved gazebo with a porcelain ballerina poised on a spinning disc in the middle. There were little compartments built into each side that Wade opened and found cheap kids jewelry and two dead cockroaches. He dumped those out into the garbage and set them aside for cleaning. No way was he giving his little girl cockroach eggs for Christmas. 

The drawers each had a tiny scene from the Nutcracker painted on the lids, accented with pearl inlays that glinted under his kitchen lights. Everything looked undamaged, a miracle for anything ever owned by a kid. 

He turned the crank at the back and the little ballerina began spinning while the Sugar Plum Fairy song played from underneath. Wade watched the little dancer do three slow rotations before it stopped moving. Wade frowned and poked at the little dancer, but it stayed still while the music played on. He turned the little crank at the back again, but nothing happened. He held it up to the light to see if there was anything jammed under the disc causing friction, got up to go find some canned air and blew the Holy Spirit out of it, but still nothing, just a little cloud of dust settling over his countertop. 

Frustrated, Wade decided to make dinner and worry about fixing it later. The music dwindled down to nothing as he fried onions for his sizzling burger. He stuck his phone on the side of the fridge with the magnetic disc stuck to the back and video called Ellie for their nightly call. 

Ellie’s pretty face popped onto his screen, followed a few seconds later by her high, bright voice greeting him. “Hi Daddy! What are you cooking?”

“There’s my favorite girl,” he said with a grin, lifting the pan into her view. “Making a burger for dinner. What’d Mami make you?”

Ellie launched into an entire monologue about the fajitas her mother made that soon wandered into a story about school and a dozen other things, all of which made Wade smile so hard his cheeks hurt. “I love you, Ellie Bean,” he told her after she’d finished her last tail.

“I love you, too, Daddy! I can’t wait to come see you next weekend. Do we really have to wait three more whole days?” 

“We do, I know, I don’t want to wait either. But you’re going to have three more nights of Mami’s yummy food and three more days of school to save up stories about, right?”

“And dance class!”

“And dance class, that’s right. Now, I think it might be time for someone to go brush her teeth and get ready for bedtime, don’t you?” Ellie grumbled and groaned, but she eventually ended the call to go do as she was told—after telling Wade how much she loved him five whole times first. 

Wade watched the screen go dark with a sinking in his heart and looked around his empty condo, wishing it could be filled with his daughter’s laughter all the time. He passed the music box without a glance on his way to the couch with his burger and ate it alone with the Golden Girls to keep him company.

* * *

The day before Ellie was due for her week at his place, Wade decided to tackle the music box again to see if he could get the ballerina spinning before he had to pack it away so her super present detector senses wouldn’t sniff it out. Tools at the ready, he sat back down at the kitchen island and got to work. First, a cleaning was in order. He wiped down all the surfaces he could reach and disinfected the drawers to make sure there were no more roachy surprises. 

When it was done, he tried the crank again to see if maybe the dusting had dislodged whatever was gumming up the works. The slow Sugar Plum Fairy song started playing, but the ballerina remained still. He frowned, waiting for the song to end in case he broke it further messing with the ballerina’s works while it was still moving. 

When it was quiet again, he unscrewed the porcelain ballerina from the base and started dismantling. It wasn’t until he’d already taken the entire base of the spinning part off and was fiddling with the motor that he realized the ballerina was gone. The place where he’d set it on the counter was empty, an obvious whole in a spread of tiny mechanical parts.

A noise behind Wade had him turning around and doing a double-take. A real, live ballerina was standing on pointe in his living room, arms perfectly poised above their head, fluffy white tutu nearly as wide as the ballerina was tall.

As Wade watched, the ballerina lowered their arms, blinking rapidly with a frown, as if coming out of a daze. They straightened their feet and looked around, clearly as confused as Wade was. And then a masculine voice yelled the longest and most impressive string of curses Wade had ever heard. “Fucking  _ witches _ ,” the ballerina muttered at the end, pulling the tiara off their head and throwing it at the couch. 

“That might have been the sexiest curse-out I’ve ever heard,” Wade said, unable to stop himself from expressing his admiration. 

The ballerina turned their attention on him, eyes narrowing. “You,” they said, pointing at Wade like Wade kidnapped their dog. “Where am I?” 

Wade looked around the open living room and kitchen with its wall of windows overlooking the water. “My condo,” he said, hoping that was obvious.

The ballerina glanced around, their eyes widening at the view, before turning their attention back to Wade. “And where is that?”

“Harlem?”

The ballerina huffed and dropped onto the couch next to the tiara, the tutu floofing up and blocking their face until they smacked their arms down over it and buried their head in their hands. “Well, at least I’m still in New York, but fuck knows how long I was in that stupid thing. What year is it?”

Wade was having a very hard time catching up with this gorgeous creature that may or may not be an inanimate object come to life. Was this a Mannequin situation? Shit, he couldn’t fall in love if this was a Mannequin situation. No telling when they’d turn back into that porcelain doll again. But for the love of all things good and pancake-shaped, they were so very pretty. “2020.”

The ballerina cursed again. “Five years. Motherfucker, May’s probably devastated. Do you have a phone?” 

Was this ballerina trying to say they’d been in a music box for five years? “I’ll totally give you my phone to use, but I need some answers first. Who are you? Where’d you come from? What’s all this about witches? Are you real or fake?”

The ballerina looked up at Wade with a cocked head that made them look not unlike a Wheaten Terrier trying to figure out where the ball went. “This is probably weird, isn’t it?” They said, shaking their head. “Sorry, I get it. I’m a random guy showing up in your living room literally out of thin air dressed like I should be on stage at the ballet downtown. I’m a real person. You can google me and everything. Name’s Peter Parker. I got into a fight with a witch five years ago because of… reasons. She cursed me. I’ve been twirling around in a fucking music box for five years, I guess. I’d really like to call my aunt. She probably thinks I’m dead.”

Wade was still processing the ‘got in a fight with a witch’ part, but he handed his phone over anyway. The ballerina—Peter Parker, he’d said—dialed a number, made a face when he pulled it up to his ear. “Out of service, fuck.” 

He stood up to hand the phone back, but ended up nearly rolling an ankle because of the pointe shoes. “Ow, fuck, these stupid shoes,” he grumbled under his breath, collapsing back onto the couch to try to take off the shoes, only to be thwarted by the tutu and cursing more. He stood again, still cursing, and ripped the tutu off, a mess of tulle going everywhere. Underneath was quite the tight little body in a skin tight ice blue leotard and matching tights, a sizeable bulge at the crotch that Wade was having a difficult time looking away from. 

Tutu gone, Peter ripped the shoes off one at a time, torn ribbons scattering. It was an impressive show of strength. Wade was having a very hard time  _ not _ falling madly in lust, if not love, with this gorgeous creature, who cursed more colorfully than even Wade did and could tear silk ribbons to shreds with his bare hands and look graceful doing it. 

Peter handed the phone back and then surveyed the destruction he’d left on the carpet with regret. “I’ll clean that up, I promise. God, I’m a mess.” He slumped back onto the couch and buried his head in his messy hair again, the defeat total.

Wade hazarded an approach, unsure how this mysterious stranger would react to Wade getting closer. He hadn’t reacted to the scars, but he’d been distracted by his own problems. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed what Wade looked like yet. 

Wade took a cautious seat next to Peter, making sure to keep a foot of distance between them. “Witches, huh?”

It was probably not the best way to go, but the words were out of his mouth before his brain caught up. The silence after was telling.

And then Peter started laughing. Hard. He looked like he might be having a mental break, head in hands as his shoulders shook. “Just the one,” he said when he’d calmed down enough to speak. He looked over at Wade between his hands, face wet with tears but smiling. Something about that smile shifted Wade’s entire world.

_ Fuck _ . 

Peter’s smile turned soft the longer he looked at Wade. “Thanks for being cool about this. I probably would have freaked the fuck out if a dude in a tutu showed up in my living room.”

Wade looked from him to the shredded tutu and back again. “I think you already did.” 

Peter chuckled, nodding his concession to the point. “Do I get to know the name of the dude whose living room I invaded?”

“Well, technically I brought you here. Bought the music box from a street table a few days ago to give to my kid for Christmas.” Wade cocked his head to the side and squinted. “Does this mean I technically own you?” he said in a tone that was clearly teasing.

“No,” Peter deadpanned.

“No, but I think it does,” Wade insisted, grinning now. “Wade Wilson, owner of the prettiest, most fowl-mouthed sugar plum fairy on the seven continents.”

Peter stood and started gathering up the tulle with an eye roll. “No, not an object. This isn’t Mannequin. I’m a real person with a job and a—Fuck, I definitely don’t still have a job. Or an apartment. I’m gonna have to move back in with Aunt May.” He made unhappy noises into the tulle stuffed in his arms. 

Wade resisted the quick and probably insane urge to offer his spare room up. Or his own bed, with him in it. He wasn’t picky. “Listen, we’ll figure this out, don’t worry about it. Do you have another way to call your… aunt? Anyone else you could call? A sister or brother? Friends?” Wade assumed if the guy had gone to the aunt first, parents probably weren’t in the picture. 

Just as Peter was about to answer, Wade’s phone started ringing, ‘ _ You Are My Sunshine, my only sunshine.. _ ’. Ellie. Dinner must have been over. “Sorry, gotta take this,” Wade said, picking the phone up and pressing accept. 

“Hey baby, how’s my girl today?”

“ _ Hi Daddy! I had a really good day at school today! I got a 100% on my spelling test and Mr. Moskowitz said he wants to put my drawing of you and me at the top of the ski hill in an art show!” _ Ellie’s high voice squeaked even higher in her excitement, and Wade could tell she was bouncing up and down with the phone to her ear. He glanced up to see Peter watching him with a confusing expression, and looked down at his shoes again.

“Yeah? The one you sent to me on Tuesday that went with your essay? I gotta agree with Mr. Moskowitz. Definitely art show material.”

“ _ Daddy, you say that about all my pictures. _ ”

“It’s the truth. You’ve got raw talent, kid. Definitely got that from your mami’s side.”

“ _ You draw really nice pictures, though. _ ”

Wade chuckled, remembering the last drawings he did with Ellie, most of which looked like something Ellie’s classmate would have drawn. Her own art was very good, and he wasn’t even being biased to think it. Clearly Mr. Moskowitz agreed. “Maybe we can draw some more this weekend.” 

He glanced back up at Peter, whose expression was only growing more confused by the minute. “I uh… Baby, I gotta get off the phone in a second, but I’ll be at school to pick you up when you get out tomorrow. Are you all packed?”

“ _ Yep! Mami even promised I could bring some of the cupcakes we made yesterday! _ ”

In the background, Wade could hear Carmelita say, “ _ That was supposed to be a surprise, mija _ .” 

“ _ Oops! It was supposed to be a secret. I’m sorry, Daddy! _ ” 

Wade chuckled, rubbing a hand over the back of his bald head and working at an ache. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never heard anything about any surprise cupcakes.” He glanced up at Peter once more. “Okay, sweetheart, I gotta go. I’ll be waiting for you in the pick-up line at 3:25 sharp.”

“ _ Okay, Daddy. I love you. _ ”

“I love you, too, baby. Sweet dreams.” He waited for her good night before ending the call, eyes drawn to Peter’s like hair to a balloon. 

“Sorry about that. My daughter and I have a nightly phone call. If I miss it, she gets too worried to sleep.” He spun the phone between his thumb and forefinger, somehow nervous for Peter’s reaction.

Peter’s odd expression bloomed into the warmest smile. “I know. I wasn’t fully conscious in the…” he waved his hand at the music box, fluffs of tulle making the gesture awkward, “but I heard your phone calls, I think. She sounds like a great kid.”

Wade grinned, ready to breeze right past the part where Peter had been listening to his private conversations with his daughter, intended or not, to grab at any and every chance to brag about his little girl. “She’s amazing, smartest kid I know. Really good at art, reads three grades ahead. Must have gotten it all from her mother. Definitely wasn’t from my genes.”

“I doubt that. She lives with her mom?” he asked, looking around for a place to throw the tulle away. Wade got up and grabbed the trash can from under the kitchen sink and held it up for him. The tulle went into the bag, the ballet shoes on top. Wade almost asked to keep them, Ellie would probably like them for dress-up, but the look of aggressive satisfaction Peter gave to the can as he shoved them down into the tulle kept Wade’s mouth closed.

“We do every other week, Monday school pick-up to Monday drop-off. Her mom and I weren’t cut out for the forever thing, but we get along. Ellie’s my whole world.”  _ Half a world now _ , Wade thought, looking into Peter’s soft brown eyes. Cheesy, probably, but Wade didn’t care. He was already more than sure this was the Real Deal. 

“That sounds great.” Peter was smiling right back at him, the two of them staring at each other like dopey idiots for way longer than was probably normal.

What could have been five seconds or five eternities later, Peter said, “I should probably go. Find my aunt. Figure everything… out.” He looked down at their feet, eyes growing large and panicked as if the reality of being trapped in a music box for five years was just hitting him again. 

Wade set the trash can back in its spot and took hold of Peter’s arm, trying not to get distracted with how nicely formed his lean bicep was. “Let me help you. I can drive you to your aunt’s house, see if she’s still there. If not, I can talk to some of my contacts, figure out where she might be. I’ve got a spare room.” 

Peter looked both desperate and hesitant. “I couldn’t impose…”

Wade shook his head, patting Peter’s arm as he walked past him. “Nope, not listening. Let me get you some actual clothes to wear, and we’ll go.” He headed for his bedroom and came back with sweats and a t-shirt, sweatshirt, thick socks, and a pair of slides that would probably be way too big, but velcroed on, so Peter could probably sinch them on tight enough to stay. “Here, bathroom’s down the hall. Get changed, and we can head out.”

“Really, I can’t ask you to drive me. It’s late, and May lives all the way in Queens…” 

Wade dismissed his protests with a wave of his hand and shooed him down the hall. While Peter changed, he grabbed his phone and did some googling. 

**_Promising Young Scientist Missing from Queens_ **

_ Peter Parker, 24, was reported missing on Friday, September 31, 2015 after failing to appear to his shift at Horizon Labs for two days in a row. Parker, pictured above, was known to work erratic hours, but rarely missed a day. His aunt and former guardian, May Parker, claimed not to have spoken to Parker since Tuesday. “It’s not like Peter to go this long without calling. He and I are all the other has. He wouldn’t leave without telling me,” Mrs. Parker said of her nephew when the Times— _

Wade didn’t get any further before Peter was back in the living room, looking adorably dwarfed in Wade’s clothes and blushing to match, the leotard and tights clutched in one hand. “Do you mind if I keep these until I can… you know, find my own.” And then his face fell. “Fuck, May probably donated all of it to FEAST. Motherfucker.” 

Wade swept in to reassure him, ushering him to the front door with a hand to the small of his back. “Come on, let’s go find your aunt, and you can worry about that as we get to it.”

Peter followed him with a resigned nod. 

They were half-way across Manhattan and driving in companionable silence when Wade ventured to ask, “So I did a little googling while you were in the bathroom. Paper called you a ‘promising young scientist’. I’ve heard of Horizon Labs, do all that quantum energy shit, right? They were trying to give Stark a run for his money a few years ago.”

Peter snorted softly, but frowned. “Were?”

Wade kept his eyes on the road, not wanting to see Peter’s reaction to the news. “Yeah, they uh… they got bought out by ROXON a couple of years ago. Some big project they were working on fell through when their—” Wade cut a look at Peter, realization hitting, “When one of their researchers went missing. They reported it to SHIELD, said they thought ROXON was behind it.”

Peter was staring at him. “Do you work for SHIELD?”

“Sometimes. Mostly. Nevermind. So you’re that scientist, huh? That was a big deal when you went missing. Guess we know where you went now.”

“Unless ROXON had witches on their payroll and knew a hell of a lot more about my personal life than they were supposed to, I don’t think it was them.” The way he said it ticked caution lights off in Wade’s head, like maybe there was something he wasn’t picking up that Peter was being careful not to put down. He dismissed the feeling, deciding it was better to let Peter have his secrets. Fuck knew Wade had enough of his own.

Peter started talking about his aunt, likely to distract, but he was easy to listen to. Funny, sarcastic. Blushed easily when Wade teased him. Wade wanted to wrap him up in blankets in his bed and never let him out again. 

But as they approached the address Peter had given him, a sinking feeling started to settle in Wade’s stomach. The brownstone looked like it had been recently renovated, and not by a lady in her late 60s barely scraping by on her husband’s pension and a meager salary from working at a homeless shelter. Wade double-parked while Peter got out and climbed the front steps, his back ramrod straight with tension. It was well past dark, but the streetlight was bright enough for Wade to see him knock on the door. A few minutes later the door opened to a young woman with a baby in her arms, clearly not Peter’s aunt. She exchanged a few words with Peter, shrugged as if she couldn’t help, and then closed the door as Peter walked back down the steps, defeat in every line of his body.

When he climbed back in the car, he was silent for a long moment while Wade turned his hazards off and put the car back in drive. He didn’t say anything until they were several streets away, heading back to the bridge. “She said her husband bought the house two years ago as a wedding present, but she didn’t know anything about the previous owner or what the forwarding address might be.” 

Wade wanted to reach over and touch him, but kept his hands to himself. As drawn as he was, they’d only just met, and Peter probably wasn’t in the headspace to take boundary-pushing yet. “We’ll find her,” he said instead. When Peter didn’t say anything, he pushed the phone button on his steering wheel and said, “Call Lady Badass.” 

A dial tone came through the speakers, cut off by a phone ringing. A groggy and annoyed Maria Hill answered. “ _ What do you want, Wilson? I was sleeping. _ ” 

“I need help finding someone. May Parker, formerly of Forest Hills, Queens.”

“Maybelle Parker. Her husband was Benjamin Parker,” Peter added.

Maria’s end of the line was silent. There was a sound of shifting fabric, and then Maria said, “ _ Call Cap, _ ” and hung up.

Wade frowned at the speakers. Maria hung up on him regularly, but something about that tone. He glanced side-ways at Peter, who was frowning, too. “Call America’s Ass,” Wade said, pushing his phone button again. 

Two rings this time, then: “ _ Wilson, sit rep? _ ”

“All good, just need help finding someone. Tried Hill, but she said to call you. Can you check the files for a Maybelle Parker, formerly of Queens and send me the info? I got a friend looking for her.”

Something crashed on Rogers’ end of the phone, followed by a curse. “ _ Did you say Maybelle Parker? Peter Parker’s aunt? _ ” 

Wade frowned, darting another glance at Peter, who looked alarmed on several levels. “Captain Rogers?” Peter croaked. 

“ _ Parker? _ ” More cursing, another crash. In the background, Wade heard Buck asking what was wrong. 

“Uh, yeah, it’s uh… it’s me.”

There was a sound of typing on a keyboard, then Rogers asking, “ _ What’s your social security number? _ ” Peter gave it. “ _ Birthdate? _ ” 

“August 2, 1991.”

“ _ Wilson, I’m sending you a clearance check _ .”

“For me?” Wade asked, already five levels of confused. What had this man been working on that was so important that Captain America knew who he was with just a name, and not even his?

“ _ For Parker _ .” In the background, but clearly much closer, Bucky muttered ‘ _ Oh shit _ ’.

Wade flipped the console down that held his intel tablet, pressed his thumb to the activation button, and pulled up the check he’d been sent, keeping one eye on the road. It was a whole handprint scan. High clearance, then. He turned the tablet to Peter and waved at it. 

Peter hesitated, but five blocks closer to home he pressed his hand to the screen. Steve cursed even louder. “ _ Where are you going right now? _ ”

“Home,” Wade said. 

“ _ We’ll meet you there _ .” The phone clicked off and his tablet went blank. Wade looked from the tablet to Peter and back again, barely paying attention to the road. 

The car was quiet again, the only noise Peter’s nervous fingers flipping the window lock on and off over and over. At a stop light in Midtown, Wade turned to look at him. “So. You know Captain America.”

“Not well, but uh, we’ve worked together a few times.” Peter started chewing on his thumbnail, not meeting Wade’s eyes.

“You’ve worked with Captain America a few times. Doing research on molecular physics.”

Peter shifted in his seat, but didn’t respond. Wade wanted to ask more questions, but a honk from behind them alerted him that the light was green again. Wade took his foot off the break and kept driving. “Cap normally doesn’t make house calls,” he said after a long silence. “That must have been some physics research. You weren’t trying to make super soldier serum, were you? That shit ends bad more than it ends good.” Wade knew from personal experience.

“That would be chemistry, maybe molecular biology. I was more into energy development and material creation.”

“Making a new Super Shield, then?”

He saw Peter shake his head out of the corner of his eye. “Textiles. High tensile strength, ultrathin. Mostly impenetrable.” Peter tapped his fingers on the door rest, looking out the passenger window. “He didn’t say where May is. Do you think they’ll bring her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Might be too late.” It was creeping up on midnight as Wade navigated through Harlem.

“May wouldn’t care. I’m the only family she has left. She’d cross an ocean in a rowboat to find me.” 

Wade could understand that. “I’m sure they’ll have her contact info.” He reached over to pat Peter’s knee, not liking the worried look on his face. Peter settled just a little under his touch.

There was no sign of Cap or the Winter Wonder when Wade pulled into his space in the garage, but they’d probably be there in short order. Wade got out, grabbing his tablet just in case. 

“I can’t believe you have Captain Rogers in your phone as America’s Ass,” Peter said as he got out of the car and rounded to Wade’s side. Wade could spot a deflection tactic from 1000 yards. 

“It’s a good ass. Don’t worry, yours is better.” He winked, smirking. Peter’s cheeks turned pink. Wade put an arm around his shoulders and guided him to the elevator up to his place, extolling about the time he got to see Steve’s bouncy ass in the flesh once. He even managed to make Peter laugh. 

He had Peter settled on the couch with hot chocolate with a candy cane garnish and a blanket on his lap by the time the knock came. Steve and Bucky walked in with serious expressions, both zeroing in on Peter on the couch and going wide-eyed. “I wasn’t sure if this was a prank. Peter, how—” 

Peter looked at Wade, over at the music box, and back at Wade, clearly not sure how to answer. Wade turned on his heel and told the whole story for him, how he bought the music box and was fixing it up for his daughter. How dismantling it seemed to lift the curse, and then Peter appeared in his living room. 

“Wade might have exaggerated the story a little bit, but that’s the gist of it. I got cursed by a witch doing… uh, night work.” 

Wade whipped around to stare at him. Night work? Before he could ask, a bright light appeared like a streak across the windows, a loud bang rang through the building, several car alarms went off down on the street level, and shortly after the last got turned off there was another knock on the door. Rogers opened it with a glance at Wade, and then Jonny Storm of all fucking people burst through the door, zeroed in on Peter on the couch, and had him up and in a bear hug so quickly that Wade wasn’t sure he didn’t have super speed. 

“Pete, oh god, I never thought I’d see you again,” Storm said, tucking his chin over Peter’s shoulder. Peter was hugging him back just as tightly, eyes squeezed tight as he tucked his face in Storm’s neck. 

While their hug lingered long enough for Wade to start growing jealous, the rest of the Fantastic Four appeared in the still-open doorway, including the prodigal children. They all rushed in and joined the hug, surrounding Peter so that Wade couldn’t see him anymore in the pile of them. Wade looked over at Rogers and Barnes for an explanation, but both of them were smiling watching the scene. 

Resigned to playing host to a gaggle of supers, Wade went to close the front door and then started tucking drawers back into the music box, keeping eye on the Richards’ asking Peter questions, the kids clinging to Peter’s hands like he’d disappear if they let him go while they peppered him with demands about where he’d been. 

It all stopped when Peter asked a soft, cracked, “Where’s Aunt May?”

Wade looked up to find Richards frowning. Sue reached out to take Peter’s hand, sadness written on her face. “I’m sorry, Peter,” was all she said.

Peter looked from her to Richards and back again, his expression slowly crumbling. “No… how…” His voice cracked again, a sob teetering on the edge of his words.

“Cancer, two years ago. We did everything we could, but it was too resistant,” Richards said.

Peter crumpled like a house of cards. Sue caught him and pulled him in, cradling him in her arms as he broke down in tears. Wade’s fingers itched to pull him in and sooth those sobs himself. He shifted on his feet, caught Steve watching him out of the corner of his eye, and shuffled around behind the kitchen counter to try to distract himself. 

“How about we take you home with us, get you checked over, and you can rest a bit before we figure out what happened?” Sue asked gently, patting Peter’s back like he was one of her children. 

Peter hiccoughed and nodded against her shoulder, pulling away to wipe at his eyes. They started shuffling him towards the door before Wade could say anything, not that it was his place. These people clearly all knew Peter well, and Wade had only just met him. Richards looked at Wade over Peter’s shoulder with a nod of thanks. Wade thought that might be all the goodbye he got, but Peter stopped at the door and turned to look at Wade with bloodshot, watery eyes. He crossed the space in three long strides and wrapped his arms around Wade’s torso, burying his face in Wade’s chest. “Thank you for rescuing me. I know you had no idea what you were doing, but I would still be in that music box without you. I’ll find a way to make it up to you, I promise.”

Wade patted his back, unsure how much he was allowed to touch with the Fantastic Four and the Ambiguously Gay Duo staring him down. “No need, happy to help a cutie in need.”

Peter huffed a soft laugh and squeezed him surprisingly tight before letting him go. “All the same. I’ll see you around?”

“Stop by any time. I’m sure Ellie would love to meet my very own personal Sugar Plum Fairy.”

Peter rolled his eyes and smacked him in the stomach gently, but he was smiling the tiniest of smiles, so it was worth it. He gave Wade one more long look before turning and walking out with Johnny Storm’s arm thrown over his shoulder and little Valeria holding his other hand. 

When the door closed behind them, Wade turned to Steve and Bucky with his hands held in front of him in supplication. “Is anyone going to explain to me what the fuck just happened?” 

“You found a missing scientist and re-connected him with those that can help him. You did a good thing today, Wilson. Thank you.” Steve nodded to emphasize his gratitude, but Wade was still left confused. 

“I know that part. But the cute junior scientist knows the Fantastic Four and Captain America part? What’s that all about?”

“Classified,” Bucky said, jaw tight in that way that said the issue wasn’t negotiable except with a bowie knife through the chest. Steve just nodded. 

“We’ll get out of your hair now. Thanks again for alerting us. We’ll make sure he’s taken care of,” Steve said, as if that was the end of the matter and Wade didn’t get to ask any more questions. Wade opened his mouth to argue, but Steve was already turning to leave.

“Happy Holidays,” Bucky said over their shoulders, flicking at the garland hung around the front door on his way out. 

When the door shut again with a soft thump, Wade looked around his empty apartment still flabbergasted. “What the actual fuck,” he said to the room. No one answered.


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [9th_Pawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/9th_Pawn/pseuds/9th_Pawn) for the watch assist!

With only a bottle of Johnny Walker to keep him company, Wade stayed up researching mysterious Peter Parker, science genius who knew Captain America, and was somehow family to the Fantastic Four. His SHIELD file—oh yes, he had a SHIELD file—was locked under the highest clearance order. Not suspicious at all. 

So Wade did more conventional digging. He found an article about Richard and Mary Parker dying in a plane crash in 1997—probably why Peter lived with his aunt. Another article naming Benjamin Parker a victim of a robbery gone wrong from a decade later. School record included enough absences and tardies to rival Wade’s record, unsurprising given the uncle dying. The perfect 5.0 was. Full ride to Empire State University. Bachelor of Biophysics, double Masters in Biophysics and Bioengineering. Pursued a doctorate, but went missing before he could finish his thesis. 

Wade was just starting on the murder of a young woman ripped out of Peter’s apartment by Green Goblin when a soft knock interrupted his brooding. He set his drink down, glancing from the clock flashing 3:42am to the door. He slipped the Glock from the pop-out drawer under the counter and walked to the door on silent feet. The peephole revealed… Peter. In a sweater that looked big enough to belong to Ben Grimm and the clothes Wade had given him, a backpack slung over his shoulder. His eyes were red-rimmed from crying or sleep deprivation, or probably both. Wade dropped his gun in the drawer of the hall table, mentally reminding himself to move it before he picked Ellie up in the afternoon, and opened the door. 

“Back so soon?”

Peter bit his lip, eyes drifting to his toe scuffing the hardwood. His hair looked windswept for some reason. “I couldn’t sleep. The last time I was at the Baxter Building was with May for Easter, and I just… It was too much. I thought maybe I could…” He stopped himself, blush darkening. “I probably should have called first, but I don’t have your number. Or a phone.”

“Those would probably both be helpful, but not necessary. I told you you could stay if you wanted. Come in, I still got cocoa.” Wade pulled the door open wider to make room for him. All the mystery only added to Wade’s interest in him. There was no scenario where he didn’t let him in. 

Peter shuffled in on the slides and deposited them in front of the coat closet in neat order. He could stop being adorable any time now. “Thanks. I’ll make sure I’m gone before you pick up your daughter. I don’t want to intrude on your time with her.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m ever letting you leave. You know the saying: If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, you get to keep it forever,” Wade told him while he fussed around getting the cocoa ready. 

Peter walked over to the breakfast bar, eyeing the half-empty bottle of whiskey, then Wade’s tablet. “That’s not how the saying goes,” he said. He paused at the tablet screen and picked it up, flicking down the article before putting the tablet back on the counter, face down. “Snooping on me, I see.”

“Well, you’re a puzzle, wrapped in an enigma, fried in a burrito and covered in the snappiest cheese, baby boy. I couldn’t resist trying to put you together.”

Peter hopped onto the stool next to the one Wade had left pulled away from the counter and put his chin in his hand to watch Wade. His eyes still held a sadness that made Wade ache for him. He pushed the open bag of marshmallows across the counter. Peter took them with a sad smile and popped one in his mouth. “Find out my tragic backstory, then?”

“I was getting through it. Life, right? Fucking chaotic awful. The worst guy to run a campaign with, hands down.”

Peter nodded around three more marshmallows. His cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk. Wade wanted to squeeze them. 

“Sorry about your aunt. I know a thing or two about losing everyone ya got, and it’s not fun times. 0 outta 10, would not recommend.” Peter’s shoulders slumped even more, a visible weight sinking onto him. 

Before he could reply, Wade slipped a perfectly made cup of cocoa in front of him, complete with a red and white macron, whipped cream, and a candy cane garnish. “But now you’ve got perfect hot chocolate and a hot Canadian to drink it with. What more do you need at 4am on a Monday morning?” Wade took his matching mug to his stool and turned the stool to face Peter with his biggest, cheesiest smile, clinking their mugs together. Peter looked at the mug for a long moment before smiling a little and picking up the macron. He slumped sideways into Wade’s chest as he ate it. Wade wrapped an arm around him and kissed his hair. 

If they sat there until the sunrise showed up over the Hudson, no one was there to judge. 

* * *

Wade eventually picked a sleeping Peter up and walked him into his bedroom and tucked him away in bed. When he got back in the living room to clean up and hide Ellie’s gift—if he was even going to give it to her. He’d probably have to talk to Peter about that—Iron Man was standing in his kitchen, in full armor with his visor flipped open and a mug of Wade’s coffee in his hand. “Heard you found Parker,” he said, bringing the coffee to his lips with his eyes trained on Wade.

Wade did a double-take back at the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Does that gorgeous little nerd know the entire Avengers roster? This is fucking weird. Was he dating Maximoff or something?”

Stark lifted an eyebrow. “Which one?”

Wade glared. “You tell me.” He rounded the breakfast bar and elbowed Stark out of the way to fix his own cup, mind still trying to wrap around the idea of Peter knowing every single super in New York well enough for them all to come check when he appeared out of thin air after a five-year absence. “Was it Spider-Man?” That was the only thing that made any sense. One of his search hits had been a whole series of photo credits for Spider-Man pictures, including some of Wade’s favorites. One really good shot of Spidey-Babe’s butt was framed in his bathroom.

“What?” Stark snapped, giving him a sharp look. 

“Was Parker dating Spidey? Is that why you all know him? I saw he took all the Spidey photos from that tabloid rag.”

Stark looked blankly at him, too flat. Lying. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Is Parker here? I heard he was back, but he wasn’t at Baxter. Sue said he called a car at three in the morning. He was supposed to get a full medical this morning.”

Wade shelved the thought and started cleaning up the mugs from earlier. Ellie would be out of school in 6 hours and he had a feeling there was going to be a lot of logistics to deal with between Peter waking up and Ellie time. “He’s sleeping. Just got him in bed half an hour ago. Pretty sure he hasn’t slept in 5 years, so maybe leave him to it.”

Stark watched him gather up the music box bits and pieces and hide them away in the highest cabinet, the one even Wade needed a stool to reach. Ellie might be able to open it on a stool if she used a broom handle, but if he shoved it far enough back, she wouldn’t be able to see what was inside even if she stood across the room.

“What’s your game on Parker?” Stark asked.

Wade frowned at him from the top rung of the stool. “Game?” 

“How’d you find him? Did you have him hiding here the whole time? Steve told me some bullshit about a music box, but I know you, Wilson. There’s another shoe waiting to drop. Why’d he show up here when he was with the Richards?”

Wade clenched his jaw as he stepped down and put the stool away. “You just watched me put the music box up there. You’re welcome to do tests or whatever the fuck you think you need to. Just put it back when you’re done. If Peter’s cool with it, I’m fixing it and giving it to my daughter for Christmas. Up there’s the only place she won’t find it.”

“Got a snooper?” His tone was amused. Wade darted a glance at him, skeptical of the rapid-fire mood shift. Stark never treated him like a normal person. “Mine steals my helmet to x-ray the closets.” 

“Yeah, well, had to know she was mine somehow. She definitely didn’t get any of her looks from me. Thankfully,” he said the last bit under his breath, starting up on breakfast. If he wasn’t getting any sleep, he’d at least get some food in him. He didn’t make any for Stark. 

While Wade ate his breakfast, Stark boosted up to the cabinet and scanned the box. He left two circles of soot on the tiles in his wake, which he ignored, walking back to his mug muttering as he looked at the results. “You’re wife let you fuck up her floor like that? I had that shit imported from Italy.”

“I’m imported from Italy,” Tony said, still looking at his readings. 

Wade gave him a flat stare. “You’re imported from Long Island.”

“Still Italian.”

“Unless you’re planning to visit the motherland anytime soon, boosters off in my house. I have a step stool.” Wade shook his head, sticking a forkful of eggs in his mouth. “Don’t know how Pepper hasn’t divorced your ass yet,” he muttered to himself.

“There’s some weird energy coming off that music box. Odd mix of Doom and Strange. Some kind of temporal disruption mixed with a bunch of magic I haven’t seen before.”

“It’s almost like he got cursed by a witch. Like he said he did. But keep telling me I kidnapped him when I didn’t know who he was a day ago.”

Stark braced his hands on the counter and levelled a serious look at Wade. “Look, Peter’s important to us. I had to make sure you aren’t a threat. It’s pretty suspicious that he’s gone for over five years and shows up on your doorstep of all places.”

“Funny you should mention suspicious. It’s not suspicious at all that I make one phone call to Hill about finding a random elderly woman and end up with Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, the Fantastic Four, and Tony Stark banging down my door. “

“Peter interned for Avengers Tower,” Stark said, still not looking at Wade. This time, he shifted feet as he said it, and Wade narrowed in on the movement like an eagle on a fox.

“An intern with a file that’s triple-encrypted and buried under the highest security clearances in S.H.I.E.L.D.?” 

Stark glanced up, guilt in his eyes. “He was a good intern.” 

Wade rolled his eyes and went back to his breakfast, officially done with the conversation. Stark wasn’t going to give him answers. He could do his own digging. He pulled his tablet back over and went back to his search from the night before.

Half an hour later Stark was still there, still muttering to himself while he analyzed hologrammed data projected from his wrist, and Wade’s suspicions only grew with every new piece of the Parker puzzle that came his way. A soft ding sounded, signaling Stabby’s scheduled clean. Wade lifted his feet onto his stool to get out of the way, glancing down as his little robot vacuum made the rounds of the kitchen. Stark made a startled sound when Stabby rounded the corner and started work on the scorch marks. 

“Wilson, why does your Roomba have a knife taped to the lid?”

“She likes to assert her dominance. Stay out of her way or pay the price.”

“It’s a butter knife.”

“And yet you’re intimidated.”

Stark looked askance. “I’m not—” But even as he protested, he stepped out of Stabby’s way. Wade smirked down at the article he’d been reading about Peter’s disappearance and drank his coffee.

* * *

Wade had prepped the apartment for a tenacious eight-year-old and was considering sicking Stabby on Stark to get him to leave finally when a door creaked open and soft footsteps sounded from the hallway. Both of them turned to see Peter walk into the living room on socked feet, still wearing Wade’s sweats and looking adorably rumpled. Wade wanted to scoop him up and kiss him all over his sleepy face. 

“Tony? What are you doing here?” Peter asked, walking closer cautiously. “And why are you wearing your suit in the house?”

“You never know with Wilson,” Tony said, swiping away his holoscreen and circling the breakfast bar to approach Peter. Wade stiffened, reaching for the Glock he’d replaced under the counter but not pressing his thumb to the lock just yet. “It’s really you,” Tony said, waving his hands at Peter stiffly, like he wanted to touch but thought that might be too unmanly. 

Peter was still sleep-grumpy and giving Stark an annoyed look. “If you showed up in my apartment in full armor, I’d probably be on high alert, too. That’s very rude of you.”

“Look kid, Wilson and I got history, and him finding you after five years without even a trace of a sign? Pretty suspicious. Had to take precautions.” He pushed a button and the suit melted away, ticking neatly into his wristwatch, a Jaeger-LeCoultre naturally. Underneath he wore a tracksuit that looked way more expensive than it had any right to be.

“The only suspicious part about it is that the music box was being sold on a street table in Harlem. Wade had nothing to do with my disappearance, and has been nothing but nice and supportive since the moment I met him.” Peter stepped up next to Wade’s stool with a scowl at Stark. 

Stark huffed an unhappy laugh, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “It’s definitely you, then. Bull-headed as always. Go get ready, and I’ll take you in for your check-up. Reed and I have a full work-up ready to make sure that witch didn’t leave any nasty surprises lingering.”

Peter eyed Wade, clearly uncertain if he should go with Stark or not. “It’s probably a good idea to get you checked out. Magic can do weird shit to your insides. My offer about the spare room still stands, though, when you’re done. If you want.” Was it probably irresponsible to have a veritable stranger in his house at the same time as his daughter? Probably. But with eyes that pretty looking up at him, Peter made it hard for Wade to let him go. 

“But what about your daughter?”

“I told you, Ellie’ll love meeting her very own Sugar Plum Fairy.”

Peter scuffed his socked foot against the hardwood, cheeks flushing. “I’m not—I’ll think about it.”

That was as good as a yes. Wade turned to Stark and pointed at him. “You, get him a phone. And some new clothes that actually fit him. You’re loaded, you can afford it. Figure out what’s up with his finances, too. Did he get declared legally dead, or does he have five years of interest to look forward to? Find out. No one told him shit.” 

Stark gave him a flat look. “This isn’t your business.”

“That just tells me you don’t know any of those things, and yet you’re trying to get all up in his business. Figure it out. And I’m serious about the phone.” 

Stark looked like he wanted to argue, but Peter was stepping closer to Wade and kissing his cheek with a soft ‘thanks’ against his skin and going to strap the slides back on his feet. He hoisted the backpack back on his back and turned to Stark as if waiting for him to join him. Stark did without giving Wade another glance. Peter waved as the door closed, and Wade was once more alone. 

* * *

Ellie was a bundle of excitement from the moment she jumped in the car and strapped herself in, launching into a story about an epic battle on the playground that rivalled Wade’s telling of his first fight with Juggernaut. He listened with a smile that hurt his cheeks and kept Peter simmering in the back of his mind. 

They were in the middle of dinner when Wade’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and found an unknown number texting him. Ellie kicked her legs against the bar stool and popped a bite of chicken in her mouth. “Important secret business?” she asked around the bite.

“Don’t chew with your mouth full,” he reminded her, pulling the text up. He didn’t actually care about it, but Carmelita would fry him alive if she found out he let Ellie have bad table manners at his place. 

**UNKNOWN:** Hi, this is Peter. Tony got me a new phone like you asked. Thanks for that. Sue and Johnny want me to stay at the Baxter Building tonight, but I don’t think I can bear it. Were you really serious about letting me stay with you and your daughter?

Wade set the phone face-down and turned to Ellie. “Not secret business, but it is important. What would you think about having someone come stay with us for a little while?”

Ellie tilted her head in the adorable way that reminded Wade of a puppy, her fork still between her lips. “Do I know the person? Why would they stay with us? Don’t they have a home? Are they coming from another country?”

“Not exactly, but they don’t have a place to stay. Or they do, but they’d rather stay with us. I met a new friend yesterday named Peter. I found him, really. He’s been missing for five whole years.”

Ellie’s eyes went wide as golf balls. “Five whole years? Where did he go?”

“He got cursed by a witch.”

Ellie giggled. “Daddy! You don’t have to make up one of your stories. I’m a big girl now. Where’d he really go?”

“This time no stories. He really got cursed by a witch. And the really sad part is while he was missing, his favorite person died, so now he’s all alone.”

“Oh no!” Ellie put a hand to her mouth in a gesture that was so Wade it made his heart grow three sizes. 

“Exactly. So, what would you think about us letting him stay here for a while until he can get back on his feet? He lost his job and everything, so he’s got to start all over, and I think he’d like to be around people he likes while he does it.”

“And he likes us?”

“He likes me, and it’s not possible not to like you, so he has to like you, too.” 

Ellie chewed on this for a long minute, her little eyebrows knitting together as she thought. She picked up a roll and started munching on it, still deep in thought. And then she turned to him with a sharp nod that bounced her curls all over her head in a soft wave. “Yes, he can stay with us. But only if he promises to watch our Christmas movies with us.”

Wade had almost forgotten about their Twelve Days of Christmas movie marathon he’d promised to start. “Let me ask.” He grabbed his phone and texted Peter back.  **Kid says you can stay if you’ll watch Christmas movies with us. We’re doing Nightmare before Christmas tonight.**

**UNKNOWN:** Is Die Hard on the list?

Oh, Wade was fuuuucked. There was no way he wasn’t falling head over heels for this cute little nerd. 

**WADE:** day 3

**UNKNOWN:** DEAL

Wade texted back an affirmative and put the phone down again. “He’s cool with watching our Christmas movies.”

Ellie had finished her dinner by then and was kicking her feet against the stool again, watching him with a big smile. “Is your new friend handsome?” she asked, a hint of a tease to her voice.

“Very. But that’s not why we’re helping him.”  _ Mostly _ .

Ellie gave him an evil grin and kicked her feet harder. Wade had a feeling he was going to regret his life choices very soon.


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW this chapter for: mentions of suicide, mentions of rape of a child, mentions of murder, all canon-typical and very brief

" _'I am the one hiding under your bed, Teeth ground sharp and eyes glowing red…'_ " Wade and Ellie sang along with the television, making hissing faces at each other to bare their teeth. The doorbell rang as they chorused the next verse and mimed creeping out from under a bed. Wade hissed teasingly at her as he stood from the couch and walked to the door. She continued to sing along, kicking her feet against the couch, eyes glued to the tv.

Peter was on the other side of the door, in street clothes that actually fit him this time, a giant puffy coat over skinny jeans and new sneakers, a thick hand-knit scarf wrapped half a dozen times around his neck. He looked like an adorable version of the kid from A Christmas Story. Wade immediately wanted to snuggle him. "Hey," he said, hunched and hesitant like he thought Wade might turn him away. Like that was ever going to happen.

Wade pulled the door open wider and stepped aside to let him in. "Glad to see Stark listened to me about the clothes. And the phone. Come on in, we just started the movie. Did you eat yet?"

"Yeah, Sue stuffed me full of enough food for three people. She seems to think I'm too skinny now? But I'm the same size I was before I got cursed. I don't know. I was almost too full to swi—drive over here." He stuttered over his words a little, blushing as he pushed his shoes off and began stripping off the coat and scarf. Underneath he wore Wade's sweatshirt, which gave Wade even more warm and fuzzies.

Wade hung his coat up for him and directed him over to the couch where Ellie was still very much engrossed in the moving and paying neither of them any attention. Wade grabbed the remote and paused the movie. "Hey Ellie, remember how I told you someone was coming to stay with us for a while? This is Peter. Peter, this is my daughter Eleanor."

Ellie looked Peter over like she was assessing his weaknesses before standing. "What's your favorite Christmas movie?"

"Miracle on 34th Street."

Ellie looked around him with a raised eyebrow at Wade. "Daddy, is this guy for real?"

Wade held his hands up in a shrug, unable to disagree with her. That movie was dumb as hell and not allowed in their house. "We all make bad decisions sometimes, baby. Doesn't mean we can't change our minds."

Peter looked like he might protest, but wasn't sure if it would be rude. Ellie kept giving him the once-over for a little longer before nodding and holding her hand out to shake. "I guess you're good enough for my daddy," she said.

Peter shook her hand, but turned a wide-eyed look at Wade. "Thanks?"

Wade laughed, shaking his head at his conniving daughter, and fell back onto the couch. "Movie?"

"Movie!" Ellie cheered, bouncing onto the couch next to him and snuggling up. Peter sat awkwardly on an armchair, a look of continued confusion on his face. Wade winked at him over Ellie's head as he pushed play on the movie again, and he relaxed a little into the chair.

Fifteen minutes later, he was singing "What's this?! What's this?!" along with Wade and Ellie, who were making surprised faces at each other and dancing in their seats.

By the end of the movie, Ellie was getting droopy-eyed and so was Wade. The whole not sleeping thing was finally getting the better of him. He stood up and stretched as the credits started, a jaw-cracking yawn following. "Alright, Ellie-Bellie, time for little girls to brush their teeth and go to bed."

"But I'm not tired, Daddy," Ellie whined even as she yawned just as big as him.

"Gonna have to get better at that whole lying thing if you ever want to be a super spy like Black Widow, baby," he said, scooping her up.

"Wanna be Black Cat. She likes diamonds," Ellie muttered, not even protesting the carry.

"A little too much sometimes," Peter muttered. Wade raised an eyebrow at him and tucked that away to circle back to later. Too many supers, and now a jewel thief? Pandora's puzzle box for sure.

"Say goodnight to Petey," he said instead, turning with Ellie in his arms to face Peter.

"Night, Peter," Ellie said, already half-asleep. Teeth-brushing was going to be fun.

"Night, Ellie. It was really great to meet you."

Ellie waved her hand in a sleepy agreement and snuggled up to Wade. Wade went to get her ready for bed and tucked in.

Peter was curled up on the couch with the news on when Wade came back twenty minutes later, a confused little V between his eyebrows. "What happened to politics? None of this makes any sense."

"Probably ease into the shitstorm slowly, baby boy," Wade said, sitting on the arm of the couch next to him.

Peter turned off the tv with a nod and looked up at Wade. "Probably smart. Thanks for letting me stay, again. Ellie's really great," he said with a smile.

"The best kid ever. If she didn't have my sense of humor, I wouldn't believe she's mine."

"You're pretty great, too," Peter told him, nudging his foot with a socked toe. Wade wanted to kiss him very badly.

 _Bad idea. Nope. You've known him two days. No falling in love already. Too soon. Give him time,_ Wade reminded himself. It almost worked.

"I know this is going to sound weird. We only just met and all, but I feel this… connection… with you? I feel really safe with you. It's… nice."

And there went Wade's heart. Gone. Floating right across the distance to settle in Peter's hands without him even knowing it. Wade blamed the loss of it for leaning in, and the sleep deprivation for the gentle kiss he placed on Peter's forehead. The hand curling into his t-shirt and pulling him down against gentle lips was all Peter, though.

"Thanks," Peter said, cheeks flushing just a bit as he pulled back, unconsciously licking his upper lip as his eyes drifted from Wade's to his lips and back.

"Do that again and I'd walk through Hell with nothing but a smile for you," Wade told him, unable to look away from him.

Peter laughed softly and pecked his lips again. "We should probably go to bed, too. I don't know about you, but I didn't get much sleep last night." He paused in standing to squint. "This morning? Time's weird."

"Time's a social construct," Wade told him, standing up as well, a little high from the kiss. "But bed sounds like heaven."

"I think you put me in your bed last night. Do you have a uh… pillow or something, so I can sleep here?" Peter pointed at the couch sheepishly.

Wade shook his head. "Not that you're not welcome back in my bed, but I have a guest room you can use, no need for the couch. Totally comfy enough to sleep on, I've done it plenty, you just don't need to." Wade knew he was talking too much, over-explaining, but he couldn't help it. Peter had _kissed him_. A little kiss, barely anything, but it was _everything_.

"Spare room sounds good. I don't think it's a good idea to share a bed yet." _Yet_. Wade's heart beat faster, but he nodded slow. He let Peter lead the way into the hallway, directing him with a soft hand on the small of his back.

The spare room was the smallest bedroom, half-office, and only really here for the few times Cable or Dom needed a crash pad. And that one time Carmelita and her mother stayed with him to get out of dodge of a Skrull attack. Peter looked around with quiet approval, stepping through the doorway and turning to Wade. "Thank you again," he said, leaning up on his toes to peck Wade's lips. He was so soft compared to the fowl-mouthed fireball Wade had first met, eyes sad even as they warmed as they looked at him.

Wade returned a kiss to his forehead and pulled back. "You need anything, I'm just across the hall. You know where the bathroom is. If you somehow wake up before Ellie or me, help yourself to whatever you want for breakfast."

"I will. Good night."

"Good night." Wade let his gaze linger for a long moment before forcing himself to turn and walk across the hall to his own bedroom. He took care of his nightly routine, checked the locks, made sure the alarm was set, checked on Ellie again, and finally went to bed, but the whole time his mind stayed locked behind that spare room door.

-

Ellie hopped into Wade's bed at the ungodly hour of 6:00am, demanding Christmas tree pancakes even though it was a Tuesday and a little less than three weeks from Christmas. Wade couldn't deny her no matter how much he wanted to drag her under the covers with him, put her in an cuddle arm lock, and go back to sleep. They had to get going if he was going to get her to school on time anyway. He reluctantly climbed out of bed and ordered her to shower and brush her teeth and get dressed while he got breakfast ready and left her to it to do just that.

Peter appeared just as the shower turned off, yawning big and scratching at his exposed abs under his sleep t-shirt. Wade set a cup of coffee in front of him before he asked and indicated the fridge for creamer if he wanted while Wade went back to flipping the pancakes, the image of perfect abs under smooth skin burned into his brain.

"You're really good at that," Peter said, watching him flip a pancake two feet in the air.

"If you're not good at flipping pancakes, they take your Canadian passport away," Wade told him with a wink, settling the pan back on the burner.

"You're Canadian?"

"Born and bred. Came here for work after this happened, decided to stay." Wade indicated his face with a grimace and turned before he could see Peter's reaction.

"What kind of work do you do?" No hint of a reaction in the question, just pure curiosity.

"Contract work," Wade said, turning back to the pancakes, instinct telling him his cute little nerd probably wasn't going to be a fan of finding out he sometimes killed people for a living.

"For S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Mostly." Wade kept busy plating pancakes and sliding them over to Peter with the maple syrup bottle.

Peter looked at the plate with an amused little smile. "Special occasion?"

"Christmas pancakes!" Ellie yelled, running into the living room fully dressed and climbing up onto a bar stool next to Peter.

Wade set her milk and plate down with an exasperated shake of the head. "Fifteen minutes to eat before we gotta go," he told her.

"Alexa, play Christmas music," Ellie called, stealing the syrup from next to Peter and drizzling it over her pancakes with a gleeful look. Peter watched her, still smiling. Overhead, Mariah Carey started belting it out.

Wade dropped his plate on the counter across from the two of them and pushed it to Ellie to get in on the syrup action before sticking a forkful in his mouth. Peter opened his mouth to say something, looking like he might be asking Ellie a question, when a sizzling sound cut through the apartment and all three of them turned to see an orange-yellow circle of sparks form in front of the fridge, and Stephen Strange stepped through in full robes and his usual pinched expression.

Ellie exclaimed excitement, clapping and bouncing in her seat. "Oh Daddy, look! Magic!"

Peter was less enthused. He was giving Strange a sharp look, all amusement from watching Ellie with her pancakes replaced by annoyance. "Does no one remember how to be polite anymore? What happened to knocking on the front door and asking for permission to enter? Did that go away in the last five years?" he asked, waving his fork around for emphasis.

Wade appreciated the defense of the sanctity of his home, but he'd been expecting something like this since Stark showed up the morning before. You didn't mention magic like Strange's and not get a visit from Strange within 24 - 48 hours.

Strange looked at all three of them like it hadn't even occurred to him that there might be people present. "Apologies, I just heard about your return and the nature of it, and wanted to assist with the investigation. Do you have the—"

Wade stood up, waving his hands, throwing significant looks at his daughter. "That thing you're looking for isn't here right now, but we can probably find it for you after Ellie goes to school, right Peter?"

Peter's eyes went wide and he nodded, turning to give his own significant look to Strange. "Yep, right after _Ellie goes to school_."

Ellie made the most put-upon huffing sound and jumped off her stool. "You can just tell me to go get my backpack so you can talk grown-up stuff," she said, giving them all a withering look before flouncing off to her bedroom. Wade rubbed at his forehead to try to stave off his headache. His child was too smart for him. It wasn't fair. At least she'd already wolfed down two pancakes before she left.

"Top cabinet," he said, pointing.

Strange looked like he wanted to deride them all for being idiots, but summoned the music box instead. Peter watched with apprehension, standing from his stool and stepping back behind Wade. "No need to be afraid. The witch would need to send you back into the box herself." Strange did some fancy hand work, and it glowed momentarily before turning back to it's dull white and gold paint. "It's dormant now. Whatever magic she used dissipated when Deadpool did whatever he did to release you."

"Deadpool?" Peter asked, face scrunching in concern and somehow recognition. How did this cute nerd know his super persona? He hadn't done anything news-worthy in years, on purpose.

Wade pointed to himself. "That would be me."

Peter stared at him with something akin to distress. "You're Deadpool?"

Wade opened his mouth to ask how Peter even knew the name, but Ellie bounced back into the room in a completely different outfit than the one she'd worn to breakfast, dragging her backpack behind her. "It's time for school, so no more secret grown-up talk," she told them, walking up to Wade and tugging on the hem of his shirt. Her eyes were still caught on Strange, though, and more specifically on the music box in his hands. "What's tha—"

"Alright, little lady, Dr. Strangelove's going to go back to his mystical lair to do whatever hocus pocus he's into at the moment, and Peter can stay here or go with us or do whatever he wants, I don't care, but you and I are going to get you off to school before Mrs. Alvarez yells at me for prioritizing pancakes over the Pledge of Allegiance and makes me sit in the principal's office again."

Wade gave Peter a significant look over Ellie's head, nodded towards the box to indicate they needed to hide it from Ellie's eyes, and steered her towards the door. Peter was still looking at him with the mildly dazed expression, like he had more he wanted to say but wasn't being given the chance. Wade didn't have time to worry about it. He got Ellie into her coat and boots and jammed her purple puffball hat on her head and carted the both of them out the door in record time. Ellie gave him the third degree the entire way to school, insisting that she knew how to hide things and 'just tell me, Daddy, I know it's about my Christmas presents. Does Mr. Strange know Santa?"

Wade had to bite his lip and try to distract her for the whole ride with little success. When he returned to the condo, Strange was gone and so was Peter.

-

Christmas pancakes in the morning did not mean a smooth day when Ellie got home from school. Her teacher sent her home with homework—stupid, in Wade's opinion. Seven-year-olds shouldn't have homework after a long day at school—and she fought doing it. It didn't help that Wade agreed with her. She was still refusing to finish the math portion when Peter slipped into the condo, windswept again and flushed. When he'd put his things away, he wandered over to Ellie pouting at the breakfast bar with her worksheets spread in front of her, glanced at Wade, and asked, "Homework?"

"It's stupid," Ellie told him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Peter edged closer to get a look at the worksheet and his eyes went wide. "I've never seen math look like that before. How do you do it?"

Ellie gave him a skeptical look, but when he pulled up a chair and took the worksheet from her with a look of genuine curiosity and started reading the instructions, she seemed to warm up to his questions more and started answering. Relieved for the change in attitude, Wade turned to starting dinner and tried not to let it warm the cold cockles of his heart to hear his daughter bonding with the gorgeous house guest he absolutely was not falling in love with. He glanced over just as Peter looked up from the paperwork and their eyes met, a sizzle of connection sparking between them. Wade looked back at the garlic he was mincing. Definitely not falling in love. Nope, not even a little bit.

Despite a good dinner and an hour and a half of bad Austrian accents imitating Arnold in Jingle All the Way, Ellie's mood had only mildly improved by the time bedtime came around. She refused to go to sleep with less than three stories and two separate water glasses. By the time Wade closed her door the final time, he was frustrated and ready for a drink. Peter was still sitting in the chair quickly becoming his when Wade returned to the living room. He watched Wade go to the liquor cabinet and pull down a bottle of whiskey and pour himself a glassful. Wade turned to him with the bottle. "Want any?"

Peter shook his head. Something about his posture was off, tense. Wade put the bottle away and brought his drink over to the couch, already bracing for whatever rejection he was about to hear. He could feel it like an block of ice in his stomach. Peter watched him silently.

"How much of this should I be drinking before you say whatever you're about to say?" Wade asked, holding up the drink. Not that it would get him drunk. Not that he was capable of getting drunk without throwing up from alcohol poisoning first.

"You didn't say your contract work was killing people."

 _And there it is._ "I don't much anymore. Not unless I have to."

Peter frowned, clearly not satisfied with that answer. "But you've killed… a lot of people."

Wade downed the whole glass in two gulps. _Should have brought the bottle_. "And a lot of them deserved it."

"That doesn't excuse the stories I've heard. You enjoyed it—" The look of horror on his face twisted a dark, angry thing inside Wade.

"Get tortured and experimented on for a year and have your brains scrambled on a regular basis, and see what kind of shit that makes you do." He stood and stomped over to the liquor cabinet to grab the bottle. Peter looked like he wanted to reply when Wade turned back around, but he waved him off. "You know what kind of a monster I am now. You can go back to your Fantastic Friends and forget all about me. I'm sure they've never walked in on a psychopath raping a 10-year-old and ripped them apart for it."

Peter's eyes went comically wide in horror. "Wade…"

"No, I get it. I'm fucked up. Now you know. I don't blame you for cutting your losses. We've all regretted a kiss or ten. I'll tell Ellie you missed your family and decided to go home, don't worry about it." He took a big swig of the bottle and walked away. Bed was probably the best choice. Shooting himself in the head definitely wasn't, not on an Ellie night. Behind him, Peter called his name again, but he ignored it.

-

It was 3:32am when the bedroom door opened. Wade had his thumb pressed to the thumbprint scan in his headboard, listening. The footsteps weren't a little girl's. The gun was in his hand and pointed at the intruder in less than a second. Peter dropped to the floor just as quickly, crouched on all fours in a stance the Wade's fuzzy brain found familiar without registering why. He tucked the gun back in the safe and sealed it again. "I thought you left," he said.

Peter peeked up over the foot of the bed and slowly got to his feet again. He was wearing pajamas. "I thought about it," he said, eyeing the gun as it was sealed away. "But you're right, I don't know what you've been through. I've done a lot of things I regret, too. I did some reading up on you."

Wade huffed, sitting up and not caring one iota that he was shirtless and bare for Peter to see. "What'd ol' J3 have to say about me? Nothing good, I'm sure."

Peter stepped cautiously closer, rounding the other side of the bed. "I didn't read the Bugle. Jonah makes half of his stories up and heavily editorializes the other half. I was reading your S.H.I.E.L.D. file."

Wade rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, head thunking backing against the headboard. "Top clearance level, right. What'd S.H.I.E.L.D. have to say? I'm still sure nothing good." He'd read his file. It was a mess of bad decisions and manic episodes masqueraded as merc work.

"I saw a testimony from Angel that you saved his life. Twice." Wade swallowed around the lump in his throat remembering how. He'd had more than one nightmare set back in that tent. "Reports of some of your worst missions." Wade nodded, eyes still trained at the dark ceiling, headlights moving across the shadows as cars drive passed. "Just as many reports of how much good you've done." Wade doubted it, but nodded anyway. "And… your medical file."

Wade thunked his head against the headboard again, nodding. _Of course_. "Told you I was fucked up."

"I'm sorry." Peter's voice was strained, caught on emotion Wade wasn't expecting. He turned his head against the headboard to find Peter looking at him with sadness, tinged with remorse. "I judged you based on what I'd been told and didn't even give you a chance to explain yourself. You've been nothing but wonderful to me. I shouldn't have treated you that way."

Wade shrugged. "Not the worst thing I've heard about myself. 'S'not like it's not true, either. I did enjoy it. Right circumstances I still would."

Peter looked taken aback, but then he shook his head, a determined little turn to his mouth. He crawled up onto the bed on his knees and crossed the space between them, the blankets twisting with his movements. "It doesn't matter. You're doing good now. The fact that you're able to function at all after what you've been through is amazing."

Wade tried to scoff at it, hating hearing about how hard he'd had it. He didn't need pity. But Peter took his hand and crawled right up into his space, his thigh pressing against Wade's through the blanket. "I'm sorry, is what I'm trying to say. I'm sorry I judged you without giving you a say. That wasn't fair."

Wade looked at him long and hard. He wasn't looking at Wade with pity. There was the regret and remorse, mixed with something that might have been desperation. "What is this?" he asked, not sure how to process the rest.

Peter shook his head. "I don't know, but I'm not ready for it to be over. Are you?"

Wade shook his head, too, more slowly. Even as angry and frustrated as he'd been, he'd put up with so much more of it just to hold him and keep him safe. At some point he'd probably need to examine that instinct, but not now. "No."

"Can I sleep in here with you?" Peter asked, creeping ever closer, a tingling running down Wade's hand cradled in his.

"I starfish," he warned, ready to kill this heavy mood.

Peter smiled just a little and climbed under the covers with him. "I cling like an octopus."

Wade shut the light off and settled back down on his pillow, even though he knew he wasn't going to get back to sleep for a long time. Peter curled up against his chest and lay his ear over Wade's heart. His fingers still tingled against Wade's skin, but having him close and warm turned out to be more effective than sleepy-time tea.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not consent to my stories being listed on Goodreads or other book platforms.
> 
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> 
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